Can't Buy My Love
by velveteenMemoirs
Summary: All Grimmjow wanted was to lead the remainder of his adult life as freely and boundless as he could. No, really. But it seemed a certain Sōsuke refused to let him do so alone. AU; slight OOC.
1. GrimmKitty

**Rating:** _T_ - Eventually, it will get to _M_.

**Disclaimer:** Tite Kubo-sensei owns Bleach and all its characters; I only use them fer writing funtimes.

**Author's Note:** I wrote this on a whim, and on that note, I decided to post it. So far, I've gotten three-fourths of it planned out, so I figure I just need to schedule when to write it out. Might be a few other pairings later as side-stories throughout the chapters, but I'll see.

* * *

Azure eyes glinted, reflecting of the various colors the strobe lighting shone off into them. An almost feral grin pulled at the owner's face, a bit of pearly, canine teeth protruding at the edges.

"What'd you say, bastard?" The man sitting behind the countertop managed to speak without slurring.

If possible, his grin had actually broadened with joy.

"What? You've lost yer hearing too, old man?"

The opposing drunken male scowled, eyes glazed over from his earlier alcohol binge, and soon found that his leniency was anything but thin because of the drinks. Without a need for a further exchange of words, he slammed his glass down onto the table, before swinging up with his fist aimed towards the bartender.

"Shit, man. Just one word 'nd old bags like you get all pissy, huh?" He snidely remarked, frowning.

Although, he spoke it more to himself, if anyone else.

Barely having to move an inch to the left to dodge the sluggish punch headed his way, the bluenette male opted on allowing himself to get his own shot in the brawl. Large, bare knuckles swiftly clipped the drunkard on the right side of his jaw, his feral grin regained anew.

Barking out a hearty chuckle, pleased with the cracking sound his hit had created, he pulled back as he watched the older man fall to the ground. Barely able to cough out a groan and a glob of crimson liquid, the younger male snorted at the pathetic sight derisively, briefly, before gulping down the remainder of the other's drink.

Allowing a satisfied exhale to rip from his throat, enjoying the burn the Vodka created as it slid down his esophagus, he walked over to two other men watching the scene.

"Oi, let that be a warning. I'm feeling pretty generous tonight, so just fuck off already, alright?" He proposed, jabbing his finger in the direction of the fallen man.

His companions — although they seem more like a useless entourage of followers — nodded their heads obediently, in fright of getting hurt as well. Scooping up the man rather harshly, they limped their way out of the club, a disheartened scowl on their faces.

"Tch. Bunch a' bastards. It ain't even fucking Friday yet, and already I've got to put up with this shit." He seethed.

Managing to pick up the barstool from his side of the counter, he looked up as a tall, lanky, black-haired man walked over to him.

"Shit, Grimmjow, it's not even fucking midnight yet!"

He refrained from deadpanning at the contradictorily serious tone the other spoke in, despite the wide grin that stretched on his face.

Instinctively rubbing the back of his neck, he gave him his own prideful smirk, busying himself with the task of filling up two shot glasses with hard liquor.

"It is now."

The black-haired man eyed the drink warily, as if there was indeed a chance it had been laced with something, but the thought was fleeting as he tossed it down his throat as if it was air.

"Fuck, how do they find you attractive?" He contemplated aloud; dodging a swift fist swung his way.

"Ah-ah-ah, don't forget who gave ya yer job, GrimmKitty~." He sardonically chimed.

Despite how much it infuriated him, the bluenette knew what he said was true — not that he would ever admit it to the leering bastard, anyway — and spat out a less than half-heartened apology. His crooked, sharp grin, however, was revived as he swallowed down the Tequila himself.

"Fucking bitch. How much longer are ya gonna rub that in my face?"

The other male's grin broadened, teeth all now perfectly presented. Had he not known him for as long as he did, Grimmjow would definitely have cringed at the sight.

In the stead, he rolled his eyes as he began to clean up the slight mess he had made.

"Until you finally admit who's better."

Caught slightly off-guard at the other's proposition, his azure eyes held a blank look ephemerally, before a certain fire recognizable only with that of violent desire raged life into them.

"Nnoitra, I already got rid of one of yer eyes for ya'. You really wanna have a bitch guide you 'round all day?" He mockingly reminded.

"Yeah, and I'm the reminiscing asshole, huh?" He distastefully regarded.

Waving a flippant hand, the taller male walked off towards his office, his other hand briefly smoothing over his eye-patch before shoving them into his pockets.

"Hm, 'GrimmKitty', was it?" A smaller, brown-haired man cooed.

Immediately, those same menacing azure eyes darkly glared at him.

"Shut the fuck up, Tesla. Or I'll carve your little face just like I did to Nnoi."

The smaller man swallowed a shiver that he knew was bound to show — fully aware that Grimmjow's threats were never hollow threats — standing up from his seat as he finished his martini.

"W-whatever." He weakly spat, it all he had been able to manage.

Grimmjow's feral grin appeared once more.

"Yeah, yeah. I'd say, "Go fuck yerself", but from that look you two've been givin' each other, it's obvious he's gonna' do it for you."

Barely stopping himself from choking on his drink, Tesla cursed at him as he slowly flustered, giving him a slight glare before swiftly trying to catch up with Nnoitra.

Heavily sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose that had scrunched itself up in disgust, leaning back against the wall filled with various sized glasses and alcohol.

Seriously, his mind had begun to prod, how the fuck've I been able ta put up with this shit?

Unable to — well, mainly that he was unwilling — to actually to give the question some decent thought, he instead began serving more drinks to other clubbers that came and went throughout the remainder of the night.

If he had really tried to mull it over, fact was, it was not as if he was leading such a…glamorous…life because it was the one he had chosen. Not at all.

Truth be told, he wasn't all that sure how he had ended up as a bartender; but, for the past one year and a half, it was all he really knew he could do. As far as he knew, or from what he could recall — which really wasn't much, if at all — was that he'd dropped out of College, had no contact with family nor any other binding type of relationship.

— Although, he felt he was perfectly fine, better off without having something as burdening as keeping up with meaningless relatives or someone such as a lover.

Simply put, all he could remember was what had occurred in that same year and a half that Nnoitra had decided to help his forgetful, sorry ass. He despised the thought, and superficially acted as if he did not need that grinning bastard's help. Even so, deep in his subconscious, where that one percent of his mindful self resided beneath the façade, he was at least a bit grateful that he had willingly helped him, after all.

"Oi, Nnoi, I'm leaving already!" He dully excused himself.

Nnoitra gave a simple nod of his head, before he head back towards his office. With Tesla who was beaming at his side, no less.

Letting out a short scoff, he decided to dismiss the rude comment that was ready on the tip of his tongue, in exchange for being able to leave the now empty club unscathed.

True, he was once tougher than that tall bastard was — how he'd gotten rid of his left eye in the first place — but even someone like Grimmjow was smart enough to know that the other had significantly gotten stronger.

Slipping out of his alcohol-redolent work clothes, he carelessly slid on a pair of beige slacks and a navy dress shirt. Ruffling his hair, giving it back its naturally messy look Grimmjow whistled satisfactorily at the mirror of his locker with a wide grin intact.

Tossing his jacket over his shoulder, keeping it in place with one single hooked forefinger, he shoved his keys, phone and wallet into his pockets before leaving through the back door. Opting with making his trek home a slow one, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and happily lit one of the sticks of nicotine.

Despite that he was, in fact, basically pleased with the type and style of life he lead, lately…lately, he had begun to actually contemplate — willfully letting himself — think it over.

What type of life had he lead prior to all of…this?

Nnoitra had come to the conclusion that Grimmjow had become a bit of what could be classified as a partial amnesiac — that his mind had blocked out most of his past anterior years from his memory, probably to escape some type of trauma — and yet, he honestly couldn't bring himself to care.

The way he saw it was like this: if I don't want to remember whatever the fuck happened, then it's obvious it wasn't important enough in my life for me to remember in the first place.

Regardless, the fraction that was his logical self felt that at the least, he should have the benefit of simply knowing.

"Tch. I know what I want to know. That's it."

Grimmjow bitterly tried to assure himself, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground, putting it out with his shoe's heel.

"There's nothing more to it."

He added, confidently, even though the scowl that tugged at the corners of his mouth proved otherwise.

It was then, Grimmjow wished he were the type of person who was fooled by their own lies; at least then, he would not have to think so damn much about trivial things.


	2. Requiem for the Nameless

**Disclaimer:** Tite Kubo-sensei owns Bleach and all its characters; I only use them fer writing funtimes.

**Author's Note:** I know of only a few subways that work this way, so I apologize if it seems inaccurate to you all if that's not the case for everywhere else. Also, I apologize sincerely for taking so long!

* * *

Due to the small detour Grimmjow had decided to take — he always became hungry after ingesting a large amount of alcohol — he had arrived at his apartment complex the slightest bit later than he would normally. Although, if he had to take a sober guess, he would also come to the conclusion that getting there at five in the morning regularly really didn't help him when it came to his awful sleeping patterns.

Even so, the only bad thing he felt could come from sleeping so late — so to speak — would be that a fairly creepy guy, who was probably younger than him, always greeted him before he stumbled into his room. Something that he was important, thought he had obnoxiously neon-pink hair that made his eyes burn like a bitch…

Groaning wearily as he rubbed a hand over his face, the bluenette almost puked, disgusted that he was even thinking of the boy.

As if their "relationship" as neighbors hadn't been strained enough, the creep had even tried reprimanding him earlier that day.

Rolling to his side, Grimmjow unceremoniously cocooned himself within his beige covers with a grunt.

He wasn't mentally prepared to keep his thoughts focused on the megane; or at least until his hang-over cleared up.

The moment he was hitting unconsciousness, abruptly, there was a soft tugging at the bed sheets wrapped around his feet.

Glaring at the linens from inside his small defense, as if hoping he could make it randomly combust with willpower alone, he waited for the pestering movement to stop. When it didn't, a small part of him snapped as he flipped over the sheets, bolting upright. His current dudgeon, however, dissipated once he caught sight of the culprit.

Mewling playfully at her master, the young feline finally managed to climb onto the bed and scampered over him, occasionally tripping. Clicking his tongue, Grimmjow playfully motioned her on her back, and watched amusedly as she clawed harmlessly at his hand dangling above her.

Pulling it away when he heard his home phone ring, he grinned sheepishly in response to her angry growl.

"Look, it's not like _yer_ going to get that."

Having a quite, inane staring contest with the baby cat, he suddenly shot her a thoughtful look.

Quirking an eyebrow, he added, "Or are you?"

Stifling a laugh as she stalked off, tail whipped high in the air as she gave him an inadvertently cute warning glance before padding towards the kitchen.

Rolling teal eyes and giving a slight shake of his head in disbelief, he slung his legs free from the covers before lazily standing up. With a large yawn, he briefly looked at his alarm clock before it suddenly began to blare.

"What, you too?" He mock angrily inquired.

Almost as if the electronic device was alive, it shut itself off after the deadly glare sent its way, and his grin grew slightly bolder.

"'s what I thought —"

His telephone continued to ring; only it actually seemed louder and slightly different in its tone than the one from earlier.

Belatedly realizing it was his cell-phone he'd carelessly left on the breakfast nook's counter, he suppressed a groan before sprinting to it. The moment he caught sight of whom it was on his Caller ID, however, his face fell and all mirth dissipated.

Feeling the beginnings of a migraine throb painfully at the right side of his head, he reluctantly flipped open his cellular.

"What?" He answered, clearly annoyed.

There was silence from the other end for a split second, before he could literally see the other man's grin.

"'The fucks yer problem, Sunshine?"

He gave a menacing growl.

"Some bitch just ruined my morning with a damn phone-call."

Nnoitra laughed loudly, amused.

"Really? Who —"

"_You_."

Yet another small interval of quiet tided over, but it was for the two to calm down, if anything else.

"Well, anyways, I called fer a favor."

Grimmjow was extremely tempted to hang up at the mere thought of doing anything for the eye-patched bastard, but felt an indescribable need to find out why Nnoitra was asking him, out of all people.

Taking the bluenette's allowance to further elaborate, he continued.

"Need ya to go out and buy some more booze."

The black-haired man barked out a laugh at the disappointed groan.

"Shit, you wake me up just for that? Can't you just tell Tesla to —?"

Looking a little to his right, the taller male's grin broadened as his eyes scanned over the curled figure.

"— He's getting his rest, that's why I need you to do it."

Dragging is face down with his hand; Grimmjow accidentally shot his glare at his pet, causing her to hiss back in reply.

"Same ol', same ol'?"

He almost disintegrated his cell-phone at the other man's following words.

"That's a good pussy."

"Fuck you." Came his seething response.

With that, he snapped his phone shut mid-way Nnoitra's cackling fit before walking over to refill the white fur-ball's bowl. He flinched some when she tried to seriously scratch at him, and his eye almost twitched.

"You want to die of dehydration? That's fine with me."

After a moment, which made it seem she had thought it over, the feline simply followed him.

Opening the fridge door to take out the milk, as he grasped it in his hand, he scowled when it was lighter than it should have been.

"Well, shit."

The kitty mewled sadly, causing him to scratch at her semi-affectionately behind her ears, before his scowl turned into an enigmatic grin.

"Great, now you're making me go out shopping?"

He immediately wished he hadn't said that, at the ghost of a smirk on her features.

Knitting his brows together, he grumbled, "Quite, you."

She narrowed her blue and red eyes exasperatedly.

"Get as pissy as you want, but in the end, _I'm_ the one who has to waste effort to get your chow."

Tossing the empty carton in the trash, he walked to his room and began to slip into gray slacks and a black button-up shirt. As he ran a hand through his hair, a pointless effort to tame the electric blue flames, he half-heartedly rolled his eyes as the feline nuzzled against his bare feet, purring apologetically.

Plopping her onto his bed with a rare smile, he put on a pair of dress shoes he couldn't even remember ever buying.

"Seriously, men shouldn't have to shop."

Grabbing his phone and keys, he clicked the apartment door shut and took the elevator all the way down to the underground parking level.

It at least gave him a reason to drive the Mustang.

**

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**

Sighing heavily, Grimmjow swiped his pass over the detector before sinking into a seat near the farthest back. Fiddling with his cuff-links, he caught a group of teen's ogling him like he was the sexiest thing to walk through the corner of his eye. When he looked up to meet their gazes, he gave a slightly incredulous smirk as the girls burst into squeals, flusters and began to chatter wildly amongst themselves.

A shame he wasn't into younger females.

Gazing out of the perpetually fogged window to his right, he lazily tugged on the yellow cord dangling haphazardly above him to signal the need for a stop. He would have been radiating anger then and there, for having to stoop down to take the subway; yet he was too tired to do so.

Then again, it _had_ been his fault for having forgotten to refill the Mustang's gas tank.

Snapping out of his thoughts as the recording of a woman's soft voice capitulated their stop a block ahead, he slowly rose up. Practically beaming once he got out, he swiftly ascended the large flight of stairs and finally grinned as the bright rays of sun engulfed him once he got out of the lower level. Taking a few more steps forward onto the cracked sidewalk, he stopped as he reached into his pocket for the small list he had compiled of his current necessities.

Needless to say, he was going to wait until he got back to his apartment before telling Nnoitra about how alcohol wasn't on it.

He muttered the few words scrawled hastily onto the ripped piece of stationery, trying to memorize them as soon as possible. Whence he felt he had, he shoved it back in his pocket, but as he glanced up to continue walking, he belatedly noticed a head of orange hair darting straight at him.

Due to the slight sleepiness he was still dazed with, Grimmjow found the most his basic motor functions could reflexively protect with was to have him take in a large breath as the other male slammed into him.

_Hard._

The two crashed onto the pavement with a loud thud, a small crowd huddling around them with a mix of worry and curiosity.

Heaving a pained groan, the bluenette waited a few moments for the initial shocks of paint to reside some before he managed to sit up on his forearms, but winced when he realized the skin had been scraped clean off during the impact.

Forcing his eyelids open, he blinked away the bit of blurriness hazing his sight as the sudden shock of the rough collision caused a bolt of adrenaline to rouse him to full alertness.

The carrot-top above him hissed a curse, brows knit as he scowled, before his complexion brightened significantly when he fully took in Grimmjow's features.

A warm grin replacing his frown, the youth quickly perched himself on his feet, squatting, and helped Grimmjow into an upright position. Extremely hesitant to take his hand, initially, the bluenette's face went blank at the other's first words since their crash. Well, that weren't swears, at least.

"Grimmjow! It's me, Ichigo!" He capitulated loudly, beyond enthusiastic.

The older male would have felt extremely creeped out, had he had the chance to coherent thought.

"Kurosaki, Ichigo, remember?"

Sadly, his entire mind and the very emotions he constantly suppressed in a subconscious level flooded over as choppy thoughts, allowing him to simply stare at the boy, incredulous with a twinge of fright.

Who was he? How did he know his first name? Why was he acting so friendly? Did he know him? Had he already befriended the boy, previously? Why hadn't he just gotten up, apologized, and left him be?

A comforting grip on his shoulder — one that his body reacted to in a way that expressed a familiarization to the touch — brought his waning attention back to reality. Yet, the youth's next words promised such a dark truth his mind long refused to accept, it almost made complete sense to him.

"_Don't tell me you forgot? Today's Yylfordt's annual requiem!"_


End file.
